A magical childhood should be a given, sadly for some this isn’t so. Written out of anger and frustration to bring awareness of child abuse, which of course takes many forms, not just the obvious.
WHAT MANNER OF MAN
I don’t look back, Eyes fixed on the Floor,
past framed false smiles fading on the Wall
the grey Sky now pierced,briefly by the Sun,
steels my heart as I gently close the Door.
.Smog soiled bricks hid the constant fight,
of a Family fractured by a lack of love,
and the numbing fear of expectant anger,
pleas for it stop chanted into the night.
Others were aware,yet didn’t want to know
They made sure their children kept away,
mouthing “it’s such a shame”in hushed tone
head shaking concern that was all for show.
I spent my Days hiding by factory streams,
often so cold,forever hungry,always alone,
you stole from a child the need to be loved,
yet you could never steal this boy’s dreams.
You were never the Man you claimed you were,
what manner of man is he who despises a child,
that could tell his Son he wishes him gone,
or a cowering Boy his violence can’t deter.
I was just a Boy with his own private Hell,
no childhood should contain fear and shame,
so I always pretended you were forever ill
too embarrassed the sordid truth to tell.
My train leaves windows streaked with rain,
I know,to this Northern Town I’ll never return
to hide and cry amongst it’s cobbled streets,
finally at peace for we’ll never meet again.